Imperfect
by Hammer-space Handgun
Summary: A summoning mishap leaves Louise terribly scarred. Luckily, magic can fix all wounds, but how can one fix what they can't see? Those close to the young Vallière will try to uncover both her and her summons' past, but will they find the key to Louise's emotional recovery. After all, nothing enters the Capital Wasteland and returns as it once was. F!Lone Wanderer; Reverse Summoning


**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction purely created for non-profit entertainment purposes. I do not claim to own Zero no Tsukaima, the Fallout franchise, or any of their characters or storylines. The only things that I own are the original characters that I have created. Please support the official releases so that we may continue to see how much war doesn't change in the future.

* * *

><p>Chapter One: Once Lost, Now Found<p>

* * *

><p>Gasps of surprise and awe fill the courtyard as an enormous dragon appears before the girl, a pristine, white underbelly; great, leathery wings; and scales of cerulean blue. The other students subconsciously start backwards as they lay eyes on the black horns set into the ridge of its head and the talons sharp enough to rend the earth simply by resting on it. The dragon casts its gaze around the courtyard curiously before settling its emerald eyes on the bespectacled girl with sky blue hair before it.<p>

The girl, expression stoic, approaches the massive creature.

The other students wait with bated breath as she fearlessly strides into its strike range, knowing that—should the magical beast be hostile to its sudden relocation—it can easily and violently tear her asunder before she could even raise her staff.

_'__Be careful, Lady Tabitha,'_ thought the middle-aged Professor Colbert, the aria of a potent fire spell waiting on the tip of his tongue. As a professor and as overseer of the Springtime Familiar Summoning Ritual, it is his sworn duty to see that proper procedures are met and that the students remain safe. Rarely, a student will summon a creature that requires restraining in order for a mage to bind them as a familiar. A mystical beast of this size, however…

_'__Blue and white coloration. Windswept configuration. Judging from Tabitha's record, this is likely a dragon of the winds. I will need to strike quickly if I must.' _Colbert pulls forth all of his knowledge on the study of dragons. By the time Tabitha had stopped three paces in front of it, the professor had an approximate location of its heart, lungs, and the basic layout of its skeletal anatomy ready to be exploited to maximum effect.

His grip subconsciously tightens on his staff when Tabitha gestures for the dragon to lower its head—a command to which it complies, to the amazement of the students. _'For such a great beast to take to its mistress_ _so easily…'_

He observes as Tabitha taps the crook of her hook-shaped staff to the forehead of the dragon. As she mutters the incantation to form a Contract between her and the dragon, Colbert can _taste_ the anticipation of the students around him. Or perhaps that is his own anticipation he tastes?

_"…__bless this humble being, and make it my familiar."_ Tabitha finishes the ritual with a kiss upon the snout, then immediately takes three, long, calculated steps back. The dragon cocks its head to the side in confusion, before its eyes widen.

_'__And now, the tricky part begins.'_

Its wings flare out suddenly as it spreads its powerful legs apart and crouches, as though ready to pounce. The circle of students immediately widens as they take steps back to avoid the creature's potential ire. Its head darts towards the left, then quickly to the right. It whirls around, finding nothing but gawking and cowering students behind it. By the time it turned back towards Tabitha, Colbert has already finished the preparation for his spell. With one more syllable and a jab with his staff, his willpower would coalesce into a ray of blazing fire; the creature will be dead on the ground, its heart a charred lump of flesh within its ribcage. The dragon looks down at Tabitha. The dragon opens its mouth. Colbert manifests his spell…

…just as the dragon collapses onto the ground, hind legs and wings splayed, with its forelegs wrapped over its head. _"Kyui!" _it cries pathetically in what could be fear or pain as a light emanates from the back of its crest. _"Kyuiiii!"_

With panicked haste, Colbert manages to dissipate what would have been a terrible mistake. So caught up in his relief, he is, that he doesn't notice Tabitha watching him out of the corner of her eye, adjusting the grip on her own staff. Returning her gaze to her target, she approaches the whining creature, patting it on the snout in a soothing gesture as the runes are inscribed onto its crest.

Tabitha the Snowstorm, the prodigal ice mage, the unsociable bookworm, is calmly comforting a crying dragon as though it were the most natural thing to do in the world.

After a few more moments of whining and patting, the glow fades, signaling the sealing of the contract. Colbert's and the other students' hearts nearly jumps out of their chest when the dragon sweeps up its summoner in its mighty blue forelimbs and brings her up to its face, but Colbert manages to calm himself down after he notices the dragon trilling happily, lapping at her face (and thus, due to the size of its tongue, her entire body) like some kind of overgrown, scaly puppy with dexterous claws. Lightly stepping around the dragon to get a better view, Professor Colbert notes the rune inscribed inconspicuously onto the back of its crest—just where the skull meets the neck. Jotting down a copy of the rune, Professor Jean Colbert heaves a great sigh of relief; with the contract sealed, the creature is no longer a threat unless the master wishes it to be so. Truly, that was the most stressful familiar summoning that he had ever experienced in all of his years as a teacher.

Luckily for him, he is an optimist. _'On the up side,'_ he smiles to himself, _'there cannot be much worse that can happen today.'_

The middle aged professor is proven right for a time as the following summons were completely docile from the start. That is especially true for Guiche _de_ Gramont and Kirche Augusta Frederica _von_ Anhalt-Zerbst; one would expect that the giant mole and fire salamander had already been bound from the way they immediately took to their respective mages. At this point, the brightness of the middle aged professor's smile is matched only by the top of his shiny head and he is ready to dismiss the class, allowing his (mostly) smiling students to get used to their new familiars.

"Has everybody performed the ritual?" Colbert calls cheerfully, just in case.

"Not just yet…" a smirking Kirche replied. The fiery haired, dark skinned Germanian is crouched beside her fire salamander familiar, revealing just enough skin under her skirt to be thought provoking without breaking any rules. "…the Vallière has yet to perform the summoning."

Colbert raises an eyebrow in confusion as Kirche casts a sly glance towards another student who also seemed quite confused about the sudden attention—at least until a young, underdeveloped, scowling girl with long, wavy, pink hair emerges from behind said student.

_'__Ah, I see.' _This girl has always been a bit of a problem child for both the academy and her family. She is the third-born daughter of Karin the Heavy Wind, former captain of the Manticore Knights, and a legendary warrior of unmatched prowess. It is said that Duchess _de_ _la_ Vallière's magic is so powerful, that to cast even the simplest of spells would result in some form of destruction. If this rumor were true, then that distinctive trait was just one of the many that the girl had inherited from her mother.

After all, every spell that she attempts to cast results in an explosion.

Even as she approaches the designated summoning area, students are already backing away. Colbert cannot help but pity the girl. She is the youngest of three sisters. The eldest has been unable to maintain any kind of romantic relationship (rumor has it that her personality is like that of a riding crop), and the middle sister has long been terribly ill and likely cannot marry. The end result is that a great deal of the pressure to be a success lies on the shoulders on the youngest daughter.

The daughter that can hardly cast magic—the one thing that defines a noble.

One would hardly be able to tell that she was stressed so greatly; her clothes are immaculately donned, her hair is carefully maintained, her posture is straight-backed and graceful, and her eyes seem to carry a glint of confidence and determination. However, the wizened professor knew better than to assume she escaped every day's perpetual ridicule unaffected. He can only hope that she would find the breakthrough she needed before it was too late. By his estimate, 'too late' begins in about three hours.

Louise _de la_ Vallière takes up her stance and raises her wand. However, her hand hovers and she does not utter a single word, as she is suddenly overcome by a sense of foreboding. This hesitation did not go unnoticed by the professor.

"Lady Vallière, are you well?" Colbert asks lowly with concern.

Louise flinches at the teacher's interruption, before attempting to shake her head free of its inhibitions. "I…" Louise breathes deeply. "…Yes, I'm fine. I can do this. I _have_ to do this…" She mutters, more to herself than to her professor.

"Yes, please do," taunted Kirche, crossing her arms under her sizable bust. "Please, show us this '_grand_' and '_beautiful_' familiar that you were bragging about. Oh, and do try not to compare yourself to me when you do so; you'll only find yourself feeling more inadequate than you already are." It appears as though Kirche's taunting had its desired effect, as Louise's resolve is reinforced by anger and a desire to prove Kirche wrong. With a flick of the wrist and a flourish of her wand, she begins chanting her incantation.

_"__My servant that exists somewhere in this vast universe…"_ Many students mutter amongst themselves, baffled by the strange incantation. _"…My divine, beautiful, wise, powerful servant, heed my call…" _

It is at this moment that Professor Colbert feels that same feeling of foreboding that Louise felt moments before as old instincts that he thought long suppressed starts demanding attention. However, he cannot interrupt a summoning ritual, as to do so would be dancing on the edge of sacrilege. Instead, he begins channeling his willpower in preparation and prays to the Founder for the safety of those assembled in the courtyard today.

_"…__I wish, from the very bottom of my heart, for you to answer my guidance and appear!" _

A sudden blast of force, dust and heat originating from Louise's wand sweeps over the entire courtyard, its forceful passage sending many a student and familiar to the ground. Colbert's reflexes are quick, however, as he is one of the few to remain standing, alert, and ready. As the dust settles, a strange, erratic ticking can be heard from the explosion's origin. Colbert rapidly brings to mind many scenarios and reactions, but he could not have been ready for what he saw as the dust rapidly cleared.

Two dust-covered, humanoid figures lay where Louise pointed her wand, one face down and the other on its back. Lying on its back is a bulky suit of steel plate mail of strange design, covered with scorch and pock marks. On its shoulders, it bore cumbersome looking pauldrons, sticking straight out about one foot at a shallow angle from over the shoulders. It can be vaguely compared to Guiche's Bronze Valkyrie, except with a decidedly masculine and inelegant form. Sturdy tubes span the back of the helmet to the front and again for the armor itself—though, what it was connected to was hidden by the grass and dirt.

Face down beside the figure is that of a small, young boy with tattered, gray-stained-brown canvas trousers tucked into a pair of sturdy, buckled, brown leather, knee-high boots. He wears a brown riding coat of worn leather that stops at the knees, bearing pockets just halfway up the coat's skirt—for quick and easy access, Colbert surmises. The coat's shoulders are broad and sturdy, and its sleeves are rolled up passed the elbow to reveal tanned, lightly scarred arms littered with fresh scrapes and cuts that still bleed. The collar of the coat flares upward, seemingly for protection from the elements. On his hands he wears a pair of dirty brown fingerless gloves, the leather fabric long worn from flexing and abrasions. In addition, he wears a hat that seems to have once been beige—possibly even white—but has long since suffered the same fate of the pants. It is not unlike a sunhat in which its brim went all around the head, but the brim was about half of the normal width. Strangely enough, it appeared as though a worn, light-olive colored canvas hood was worn under the hat. On his back is a disproportionately large pack, fashioned from leather and generously loaded to the brim with who-knows-what.

Despite all this, what caught Colbert's attention near-immediately was the rifle slung over his shoulder next to the pack. The wood of the rifle is worn and pitted in places and the barrel bears hints of rust. Makeshift metal bands seem to hold the piece together and, just over the sights, a tubular object was fastened in the same crude manner.

These figures have undoubtedly appeared as a result of Louise's summoning, but that bears the major question plaguing Colbert's mind…

"Lady Vallière?" he calls nervously, eyes darting to and fro without letting the figures out of his sight, finding only the confused faces of other students. "Lady Vallière, where are you?" Ignoring that it would be a student lost under his watch, failing Karin's daughter is the absolute last way that his life could possibly end. He still remembers Captain Vallière's shows of force from his soldiering days and absolutely does _not_ want to be at the receiving end of her fury unleashed for breaking a promise.

The students start to mutter amongst themselves, most confused, some concerned, and a few even scared. Guiche is staring down his nose towards the plate mail with an appraising expression on his face as he held Montmorency, who is content to stare at the scene in confusion. Even Kirche loses her mocking smile as she narrows her eyes towards the figure in the coat, a thoughtful expression, like that of one who was presented a difficult riddle, plastered onto her face.

Even the ever detached Tabitha had lowered her book to observe. Truly, this was a worrying turn of events.

The figure in the coat stirs and let out a series of wet, wracking coughs. Still coughing, the figure stumbles onto his feet— turning his head and spitting onto the grass, much to the students' disgust—and tries to dazedly take in his surroundings. As he does so, Colbert notes that in his right hand he holds a worn and chipped wand—something quite out of place for one dressed as a plebian—and a small, silvery, distinctly pistol-like object in his left with a slender barrel that couldn't even fit half a musket ball. Yet another strange device reveals itself, dangling from a strap on his right shoulder; it has a round body with a thin rectangular protrusion sticking out of it sideways, and an angled series of thin metal bars protruding from a point behind a trigger, marking this as yet another unique firearm.

A series of surprised gasps ring out throughout those assembled in the courtyard as the figure turns to face them. Even Colbert is frozen in place when the figure becomes frustrated and, after slipping the pistol into the coat's pocket, tiredly tears his—no, _her—_hat and hood from her head, revealing her dirty, strawberry-pink hair.

Louise has her unkempt, dusty hair tied up in a tight bun under her headgear, and her bangs appear to have grown unruly as they hang limply over her dirt-smeared face like an impenetrable, dirty pink curtain, the right side sloppily kept out of the way with a metal pin behind her ear. She wrestles with the leather straps of a worn pair of goggles fastened over her eyes, the spider web fractures littering the tinted lenses undoubtedly obscuring her vision. Eventually, she opted to simply yank the goggles towards her neck until they hung like a mistreated necklace. Bringing her hand up to shield her eyes from the midday sun, she attempts to gaze around again.

"Alex…" Louise croaks in her effective blindness before entering another worrying coughing fit. After regaining herself, she tries again. "…Alex? Where…?" Student and staff alike are utterly baffled at the sight. When did Louise change her clothes? Why is Louise covered in cuts, scars, and dust? What in the world possessed her, a noble girl and proper lady, to wear _trousers_ of all things? Is this some kind of setup to an elaborate plot? These questions and many more buzz in their minds and between them as they observe the scene unfolding before them.

It is then that the armor moves.

It is a slow but rigid movement, as though its arm is moving through some outside force guiding it. Eventually, it finds its way over to her ankle and brushes against it. Noticing the touch, Louise looks down at the arm as it drops back to the ground. Narrowing her eyes, she sluggishly follows the arm up to the main body.

_"__Alex!"_ Louise's eyes shot wide open as she stumbles by the prone figure's head and dropped to her knees before it. "Alex, speak. _Please_…" Louise begs as she leans over the figure's helmet.

_"…__Lou…ise…" _a choked, female voice drunkenly slurs from the armor, muffled yet clearly audible. Dropping her wand on the ground, Louise carefully removes the helmet to reveal the disfigured head of a young woman. Expressions of disgust infect the crowd as the inflamed and blistered skin of Alex's face meets sunlight. Her nose bleeds freely and, as the helmet is lifted, the gathered blood smears across her face and over her emerald green eyes. Though her hair is concealed by a tight fitting hood, a reddish brown lock hanging limply towards the grass betrays its color.

Once the helmet is past her mouth, Alex gasps deeply like drowning man drinks air before she herself enters a distressingly weak coughing fit. Her breathing is slow and shaky as her eyes meet Louise's, squinting from the light. Offering a shallow grin and a weak chuckle, she allows her glazed over eyes to travel to the helmet in Louise's hands.

"…Breathing…sucks…" she wheezes. Immediately, Louise shrugs off her pack, letting fall to the ground with an impressive _thud_. Rummaging through pouch on the side of the pack, she curses loudly as she quickly withdraws her hands, finding they are covered in an orange liquid. Quickly tossing away a couple of deflated, transparent pouches covered in the same liquid, she retrieves a pouch filled the stuff.

Shaking his head free of his shock, Colbert decides that he has seen enough. "Miss Vallière!" he calls as he quickly approaches the pair. He hasn't even finish his call when, with the reflexes that a complacent schoolgirl had no business having, Louise whirls around in a kneeling position to face Colbert with her pistol drawn and leveled, her wand held loosely in her right hand. A narrowed eye of hardened steel glares in his direction and her mouth is set into a grim line.

This reaction brings cries of shock and alarm from the students. "Have you lost your mind?!" shouts Kirche, her wand at the ready. "Pull yourself together, Zero!" In an instant, Louise's gaze jumps to the redheaded Germanian, her expression slowly morphing into that of confusion.

"…_Zero_…?" she whispers and Kirche is suddenly acutely aware that Louise's wand had been idly facing her direction. With squinting eyes, Louise tries to focus her vision on people around her. Confusion shifts to vague recognition, then to dawning realization as her eyebrows slowly begins to climb. "…Zerbst?" She then turns back towards Colbert, who is still frozen in place. "Colbert?" He expertly contains his indignant twitch at being referred to so familiarly. She looks down and inspects the ground below her. "Grass!" She excitedly rises and looked straight up, pausing only to wince and raise her arm to shield her eyes from the sun. "_Moons!_"

_"_It's finally happened_…"_ whispers one horrified student to another as Louise twirled about cheerfully with her arms spread, grinning and laughing hysterically. _"…_The Zero has gone mad_."_

Dropping her pistol, she kneels down and hovers over the prone woman's marred face. "Home!" she cries happily, tears streaming down her face, "Alex, I'm _home_!"

"Really…?" Alex breathes weakly, black-rimmed eyes swelling shut, "…Wow. I'm happy for you, Lou'. Congratulations—" she is interrupted by a convulsion, before she wrenches her head to the side and vomits a torrent of bright red blood all over Louise's hand, instantaneously sapping any cheer from the young girl's face. "Sorry…" she manages to gasp out between heaves as Louise frantically wipes the blood off of her hand onto her duster.

The sight of a woman's lifeblood spewing from her mouth sends all witnesses into a new wave of panic. The assembled students flee the courtyard, some screaming something about a plague. Using his magic, Colbert conjures a bright, blue flame, sending it high into the air; seeing the signal, the water mages on standby should make their way to the courtyard shortly.

Once the convulsions stop, the prone woman's eyes have shut completely—though if it is because of the swelling or fatigue, neither Louise or Colbert knew. "I can't… I don't…" Louise frantically starts peeling the tight hood from the brunette's neck as though searching for something. "So tired…"

Louise's eyes widen in alarm and her head darts about every which way until she lands eyes on Professor Colbert. "Colbert, help!" she cries desperately. "Please, help Alex!" Cursing himself for his hesitation, he rushes over to Louise's side and briskly inspects the armored woman's face.

_'__So strange, this looks almost like a burn, but there are subtle differences…'_ Colbert's brow furrows in thought as Louise deftly unravels a tube on the orange pack, also subtly returning her pistol to her pocket, but Colbert decides to keep note of that action and save it for a better time. _'She seems to know how to treat this woman, so I shall simply assist her how I can.' _ "What do you need me to do?"

"Find a vein," Louise orders, removing a cap at the end of a tube, revealing a tiny needle. She squeezes the pouch lightly and, to Colbert's surprise, a short stream of liquid spurts out from the needle. "Not an artery; a vein. In her neck." Professor Colbert finds a vein in short order, placing his finger over it.

"I've found it," Colbert says. "Now what should—" Colbert aborts his statement in shock as Louise deftly slips the needle into Alex's neck, just below his finger, and places the bag under her knee. "M-Miss Vallière—!" He is once more interrupted as Louise enters another coughing fit. It wasn't just the coughs that gave him pause, though.

No, it was the blood trickling slowly from her mouth and nose that alarmed him.

"Louise!" Colbert cries. _'Damn, perhaps this is some kind of plague! Perhaps I should…' _He shakes his head vigorously. _'No, I will not abandon my charge. Think, Jean, think…'_ He takes a brief glance at his surroundings as he replays the events leading up to this moment in his mind. _'A bag of liquid that travels to a needle point… The needle needs to enter a vein—a blood vessel to the heart. An antidote then? It must be! And because there were other pouches of it, though empty…'_

Professor Colbert rushes around Louise to her large bag, the pink haired girl's coughs yet to subside. He quickly locates the pouch that Louise was searching before, ignoring the lukewarm liquid that now coats his hands uncomfortably. He pulls out many items—bandages, some form of shears, a curved needle and thread in a transparent bag—before finding another pouch of orange liquid. _'The last one…'_

"Louise, are you ill? Is this the antidote?" He mentally winces as he realizes that he asked two questions at once, but he gets a weak, shaky nod in response. Wasting no time, he imitates what Louise did with the last bag, though not in quite as practiced manner as Louise. Once the orange liquid flows from the tip of the needle (a needle which is actually _hollow_ to his amazement) he reaches for Louise's neck, only to be brushed away as she turns her head to avoid coughing on him.

Before he could question this action she gestures to the inside of her left arm where multiple penetration scars are clearly visible, dots too light on skin too tanned. Following her guidance, guidance which is given through peripheral vision, he gets the needle into position on the skin, but hesitates. _'Come on, Jean,' _he pushes himself, _'you can do this. Your student needs you. You're only jabbing a pointy object into your students body. It's to save her life.'_ Looking up at Louise, Colbert witnesses a row of teeth stained pink with blood as she coughs up another bloody glob. Steeling himself, he grunts with the mental effort to stick the needle into her arm, causing her to wince visibly in the midst of her coughs.

Colbert was already absolutely nervous, and seeing her flinch only made it spike. _'Well of course it would hurt—I just shoved a sharp object somewhere where objects shouldn't be shoved! This is the first time I have ever heard of stabbing someone to make them better. Save for stitches of course or certain rituals or—oh dear she's looks disoriented. She's lisping—no she's balanced again. No, she's tilting again. Did I do something wrong? Wait, on that matter, is this even a legitimate medical practice? Oh, when are those water mages going to get here?! A student could have bled to death five times by now!'_

Louise reaches into her coat's right pocket and pulls out a rust-red handkerchief, holding it over her mouth as her fit finally subsides. Wiping her mouth she looks up her professor and smiles wearily, out of breath and eyes shining with a kind of joy and openness reserved for an old friend. As she gently removes his hand from the needle—_'I was still holding that?'—_her head rolls to the side as she looks down at her latest injection and she chuckles.

"…You suck."

"W-what?" _'The nerve of this girl! It's not like I _have_ experience in the medical field! If this situation were any less strange I would file a strongly-complaint immediately!' _"Miss Vallière, I'll have you know that—"

She thrusts a shaky hand before his face—the _nerve!—_as she teeters dangerously to the side, lifting her knee that kept pressure on the pouch connected to the unconscious woman. Seeing this, Professor Colbert remembered that the stabbing would be pointless if the antidote wasn't delivered, and so carefully squeezed the bag.

"A-ah…" Louise gasps as she falls over and rolls onto her back, careful of the needle and tube, her eyes lidded and straining to stay open. At that moment, the doors to the main tower bursts open as the healers, four in total and wearing white veils, rushes towards the trio. "K-keep pressure…" Louise instructed at the threshold of unconsciousness, "…remove when e-empty…"

"Louise?" Colbert panics, "Louise! Stay awake, Louise—you need to stay awake."

"…Stuff's contaminated… p-purify…" She looks up at Colbert as a small smirk twitches its way onto her face. "C-careful with the coat. It's…my…f-favorite…" She chuckles weakly, only to be overcome by another series of coughs.

"Mister Colbert," starts one of the healers as the others examine the two fallen, "I'm sorry it took us this long to arrive. We heard cries of an illness and so we went back to retrieve our—"

"Don't remove those tubes," interrupts Professor Colbert as one the healers move to do just that, "the pouches they connect to contain the antidote to their ailment. I have reason to believe that it is contagious."

"Does that mean that you are…?"

The middle aged professor nods gravely. "I am afraid that this is likely to be the case. Please have the fastest way to the infirmary cleared and this courtyard quarantined. Also please keep pressure on those pouches and take a sample of the orange liquid before one of the bags run out. If they run out, remove them from the body immediately. Their armor and clothes are also contaminated, so you will need to—"

"A-alex?" the youngest Vallière croaks deliriously in her semi-conscious state. "Alex… P-please stay… D-don't…"

"Those two should probably be put in the same room," Colbert suggests as her voice dies down to incoherent mumbling. He turns back to continue speaking to the healer when he hears the woman treating the Vallière gasp loudly. Turning back towards Louise, Colbert follows the woman's gaze. What he saw made his heart clench until it bled and made his own scar on his back flare up until it burned like the day he received it.

Hidden by her hair, the entire left side of Louise's face above her lips has been mutilated. The skin, shiny but wrinkled, has been darkened in patches, forming formless patterns of an obscure encounter with pain. Oh, but Colbert the Flame Snake could read it perfectly. That half-of-a-face is an open book to the ex-soldier of fire—the retired walking holocaust. Her once-pristine face is now a novel to Colbert, and this story's antagonist burned slowly but hotly and it burned long and many times. The burns were left to fester and received treatment too late to prevent the worst of the scarring. The burns were treated, but became infected. The damage continued to build long after the burn was received, but has finally stabilized. From now on that burn will heal, but it will never go away. This burn scars both the body and soul, and while the most expensive of magical procedures could fix the body, she will always feel the moment she got those scars.

But that just continues to beg the question…

"What in the world _happened_ to you, Louise Françoise?"

* * *

><p>"…Damn. Look at all these guys. Poor bastards…"<p>

"Yeah. It looks like the muties were having a field day 'till the Pride came along."

"No kiddin'…"

The Galaxy News Radio plaza was an absolute mess. In the most recent firefight, much of the area had been torn apart—the most notable of these damages being the sizable crater not fifty feet from the building itself where the fountain used to be. In the crater where a fountain once was now lies a twenty-foot tall Super Mutant, face down in a pool of its own blood, the red river flowing from where its legs used to be.

And standing on this mutant's back, rummaging through the bodies in the cage that every behemoth carries on its back, were the heavily armored figures of Sentinel Sarah Lyons and Paladin Vargas of the Lyon's Pride, an elite group of warriors of the Brotherhood of Steel.

Their brothers and sisters in powered armor have spent the last thirty minutes sorting out the bodies of their fallen, offering prayers and collecting their holotags for the Archives. All that was left to do was to recover any salvageable equipment. As it so happened, Super Mutant Behemoths are walking treasure troves of equipment.

Sadly, there's a reason for that.

"Damn, some of these folks are so young, too," the paladin sighed, the sound carrying clearly through his helmet (and, most importantly, his air filter).

"Luck was not on their side today," Sarah Lyons nodded, a grave expression under her helmet. "I wish it were different, but there was nothing we could do."

"Yeah. What—Oh, come on…" Vargas sighed, moving another body aside.

"Oh no… she was just a kid."

"A happy one if the hair's anything to go by. Damn pretty, too. Probably woulda broke some boy's heart, some day."

"Yeah… Think any of these civvies were family? Their ages look about right for it."

"Probably. If we can't piece this broken picture together then—wait a sec…"

"What is it, Vargas?" Sarah said, resting a hand on her laser pistol. Vargas simply held up a hand in a waiting gesture. A tense silence passed, Vargas' armored hand resting on the body's chest, before he quickly started shifting bodies off of her.

"Hot damn—this one's still alive!" He shouted, carefully trying to lift her limp form from the cage of death.

"No way! That's impossible, she should've been nuked!" Despite her words of disbelief, she quickly moved to help him, jostling the other bodies as little as possible in hopes that there may be another survivor.

"Yeah, well then we've got a regular miracle baby in our hands. Medic!" he cried over the radio, "Pride, this is Vargas; I got a wounded civilian in the behemoth cage—bring a stretcher and rad-away!" He was met with a chorus of affirmatives as a small army of helping hands made themselves present at the crater, each steadying another as the light body was carefully maneuvered out of the pit.

"This is Lyons," announced the Sentinel over the radio, "get some medics to check for survivors in the cage." She was also met with affirmatives.

A few seconds later, a pair of medics exited the Galaxy News Radio building carrying a stretcher made from metal rods and a curtain. Once it was set down, one of the medics jumped onto the behemoth and began checking the bodies, while the other soldiers laid the girl down onto the stretcher.

"Alright, soldiers, get back to work," barked Vargas, to which the soldiers complied. The medic took his helmet off and began his examination as Sentinel Lyons watched over his shoulder.

After sixty seconds, she spoke up, "how does she look?"

"That's the strangest thing, ma'am," the medic responded. "Other than some minor bruising and a bit more radiation than is healthy, she's perfectly fine. Unconscious, but fine. I'd recommend putting her in with the wounded to be safe, but we don't have the room after that last attack."

"Hmm… Why don't we put her in with the fat lady?"

"Ma'am?" The Sentinel could smell the medic's confusion.

"Are we really going to call her that?" asked Vargas as he rejoined Sarah and the medic.

"I don't see why not," Sarah responded easily, "she fat-rolled under a behemoth with a Fat Man and got away with it, so I'm going to call her the Fat Lady."

"Come on now, you know if she didn't do that, then we probably would have lost a lot more men."

"I never said I wasn't grateful—I'm happy that the girl's got some guts and took the thing down—but we can't encourage every random wastelander to try and help us by shooting bombs in close proximity to us. Besides, that was the sloppiest roll I've ever seen," she adds as an afterthought.

"Right." Vargas was clearly not impressed.

"Well anyway," she turned her attention towards the medic, "go up and tell Three Dog that he's about to have another guest. Answer his questions if he has any—within reason of course." The medic salutes and, after picking up his helmet, ran into the building. "Vargas, help me carry this one." She is already moving over to the head of the stretcher by the time she gives the order.

"You're just looking for an excuse to get away from the plaza," Vargas stated factually.

"Should I get someone else?"

"Whoa, let's not be too hasty," Vargas pleaded humorously as he took hold of his end of the stretcher.

Lifting it in unison, Sarah ordered that the way to the upper building be made clear and the doors held open until they passed. As they made their way through the building, she could hear the idle conversations of the soldiers they passed turn towards their 'precious cargo'.

When they made it up to the final flight of stairs, it was Three Dog himself, clad in his ever-present bandanna and shades, holding the door open for them. "Hey, hey, hey! If it isn't Lady Lyons—I heard I was getting a cute new guest to hog up my pad. Hell, if this keeps up I'll even be kicked off my couch!" he laughed good-naturedly.

"Yeah, well be happy that we don't make dogs sleep outside," Sarah shot back icily.

"Aww, you flatter me, Lady Pride. Paladin Vargas, my man! Takin' a break from the chaos in the plaza?"

"Somethin' like that. Just delivering a package and taking the scenic route back, that's all," Vargas smirked, though none could see it.

"How the hell can you recognize us with our helmets on?" asked Sarah.

"Oh, you know," Three Dog said mysteriously as he procured a cloth and polished his shades, "you've just gotta know these things when you're as great as I."

"Aaaand I'm gone." Sarah abruptly about-faced, marched around the body, and stomped down the stairs.

"Don't worry," Three Dog assured, "she'll be back."

"Yeah," laughed Vargas, "it's not like she has a choice. Where do you want the girl?"

"We'll put her on the couch. I'd offer her a bed if the Fat Lady weren't splayed out upon it."

"Oh no," Vargas sighed as he shook his head in exasperation, "not you, too."

"Hey relax, man!" Three Dog laughed as he took up the head of the stretcher. "It's just a joke! I promise, this moniker is off the mic'."

"Yeah, let's hope so. That chica took down a behemoth, in case you haven't heard."

"Oh I've heard—many times at many decibels, too. Ah, over here is good." Sidling up by the couch, the laid down the stretcher and moved the young girl upon it.

"Hey," Vargas started, "I thought you were already kicked to the couch."

"Ah, whatever, man," Three Dog waved off jovially. "This old dog is most comfortable behind a mic', anyway."

Chuckling, Vargas made his way back to the main floor. "You can expect a doc' to come and go till they get up."

"Got it. Fare thee well, Paladin Vargas, oh gallant knight in powered armor!" Three Dog declared as he bowed theatrically. Paladin simply waved a hand lazily over his shoulder in response as he turned out of sight, the door shutting behind him.

After watching the door shut, the dark-skinned man lifted his shades and looked down upon the girl resting peacefully on his couch-turned-bed-turned-sickbed. "Well, that medic sure got one thing right; kid's cute as a button." He stretched his back, trying to clear it of the mere _thoughts _of the kinks that he knows he'll be getting from his excellently scavenged wheelie-chair-turned-awkward-bed. "Sorry to say, though…" he spoke for the sake of speaking as he pulled a beer from his semi-functional fridge.

"…pink hair is _so _last millennium."

* * *

><p>Author Notes:<p>

This is the result of when I get stuck while proofreading. Someone help me, because this isn't supposed to happen while trying to figure out if one should implement the word _daemon _over _demon._

Also, as a warning ahead of time, there will be mature themes in this story that includes violence (of course) and foul language (of course!), but also may include sensitive subjects like abuse or rape (should they appear, they would not be explicit. They would, in most prominent cases, be heavily implied.). Again, this is just a warning of what could possibly come.

Anyway, that takes care of that. I've always loved the idea of some reverse summoning action in Familiar of Zero crossovers. _Stalker_ _Zero_ by TheannaTheWhite (a S.T.A.L.K.E.R. crossover) is exceptional in that department as well. If anyone else has another suggestion, I'm all ears!

That's all for now. Leave me a review and tell me what you think of this spur of the moment work, will you?


End file.
